


Man Up

by AshWinterGray



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Lack of Communication, Steve Harrington In Pain, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington is Lonely, Talking, Whump, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 04:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17615057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshWinterGray/pseuds/AshWinterGray
Summary: From a young age, Steve Harrington learned to be quite about anything that bothered him. Even when he was sick, Steve knew better than to say anything about it. Especially in front of his father. Being told from the age of three that you weren’t allowed to bother anyone, to through your problems on someone else, really had an affect on a person. So Steve learned not to complain. Not to say anything when there was a problem. When he was sick. When he was hurt. He couldn’t say anything.He had to Man Up since he was three.





	Man Up

**Author's Note:**

> Shorter than what I normally right. But still good. I hope.

_You’re an idiot._

_I can’t believe you are my son._

_A disgrace._

_Act your age._

_You need to behave._

_Such a fool._

_A disgusting little boy._

_Your mother and I are disappointed in you._

_Learn your place._

_There is nothing for you._

_You were never good enough._

_Man Up!_

\--------------------------------

            From a young age, Steve Harrington learned to be quite about anything that bothered him. Even when he was sick, Steve knew better than to say anything about it. Especially in front of his father. Being told from the age of three that you weren’t allowed to bother anyone, to through your problems on someone else, really had an affect on a person. So Steve learned not to complain. Not to say anything when there was a problem. When he was sick. When he was hurt. He couldn’t say anything.

            He had to Man Up since he was three.

            Dating Nancy Wheeler had been nice, but he wasn’t quite sure what this whole talking thing was. He was supposed to be a man. He couldn’t talk about his feelings. He couldn’t let anyone know that he was afraid of his own pool. He couldn’t let anyone know that he was terrified his own dreams. He couldn’t let anyone know that he Barb’s death ate him up inside.

            He had to Man Up.

            Not talking got him a break-up with the only girl he had ever loved. It got him pain. And heartache. More things he couldn’t talk about. _It’s okay, Nance._ Even though it wasn’t okay. But he couldn’t say that, now could he. That would be a complaint. An excuse. One of the many things he wasn’t allowed to talk about.

            He had to Man Up.

            Then he got four kids. And those four kids’ kind of became six kids, though he only saw one of them once a month. And they _liked_ to talk. They talked about everything, and more often than not, Steve listened. He never talked to them about his own fears and feelings. But he couldn’t do that. They could. Steve figured he had to Man Up just a bit to early in life. It was something his father would do. So he listened, offered advice when he could, though it wasn’t always good. But he never talked about his feelings. He couldn’t.

            He had to Man Up.

            That was the rule. That was the _law._ Something his father had drilled into him years ago.

            _Your feelings don’t matter._

_No one wants your complaints._

_Never make excuses._

_Stop whining._

_You aren’t a baby._

_Man Up!_

            So he did. He did what he had been taught because it often meant less pain. Less pain from his father’s hand. Sometimes he slipped up. But he did his best.

            He had to Man Up.

\---------------------------------------

            It came back. Of course it came back. And Steve was somehow stuck with five kids as he had been picking up most of them from the arcade. They were just waiting on Billy when a Demodog jumped on Keith and killed him. Steve hadn’t gotten the bat on time. He yelled at people to run, shoved the five kids in his car and took off. Then, because of course, a Demodog slashed one of his tires, and he barely got out of the car enough to kill it. Barely because it had made a nasty swipe at his side.

            They had been running. Steve’s jacket was around a terrified Will, and his black shirt was hiding the problem. He hadn’t told the kids yet.

            “Steve!” the sound of Jonathan’s voice made said boy’s head jerk. “Steve! Come on!”

            Hopper’s blazer was waiting, gun in hand as he shot off any Demodog that came near. Steve faltered, which was a terrible idea. The wound was starting to hurt.

            “Come on!” Mike shoved Steve from behind, none too gently.

            They were in the blazer and off to the cabin a little too quickly. No one paid Steve any attention as he placed a blanket to his side to stop the bleeding. Then they were ushered out, and Steve had to leave the blanket.

            “This is different,” Hopper was talking to the group, though no one had noticed Steve slip to the bathroom. Steve eyed the wound, knowing it was bad. “The new gate, not even Doctor Owens knows how it could have been opened.”

            “But we can stop it,” Mike was saying as Steve walked out again. “I know we can.”

            “Harrington!” Hopper snapped. “Stop fixing your hair and get over here. We have more important things to do.”

            Man Up.

            Steve let that thought nestle in his head as he nodded at Hopper and joined the group. He gripped the bat tightly, settling firmly in place between Dustin and Lucas, who both looked disappointed in him.

            No excuses.

            Hopper was telling them where the gate was and where they had to go to close it. The kids were all throwing out ideas to distract it. And Nancy was pointing out the fact that the Mind-Flayer would be expecting them this time.

            No complaints.

            “Not if we fake them out,” Steve pointed out.

            “What?” Hopper asked, clearly not ready to listen to the jock.

            “It’s a basketball move,” Steve stated. “You pretend you are going to through the ball one way when you are really throwing it the other. That way, the person blocking you uses all their effort to stop you and only gets air, preventing them from getting the ball in time. We could do the same thing here.”

            “That’s not a bad idea, Steve,” Nancy stated in disbelief.

            “Don’t act so surprised, Nancy,” Dustin, ever the one to come to Steve’s aid. “You dated him. You should know he’s more than muscle and brawn.”

            Nancy looked like she’d been punched in the face, but Steve wasn’t paying them any mind. He was looking at Mike, whose brain was whirling with a plan. He grinned at them all when the plan was formed.

            They did a fake out. Hopper, Jonathan, and Nancy led the six kids one way. Joyce and Steve went to the gate directly. Joyce and Steve managed to sneak El in while the Demodogs attacked the others. It was risky, but it bought them the time they needed and El managed to close the gate a second time. Joyce was hugging El, ever the amazing mother. But El definitely wasn’t as tired as last time. Steve watched, hand over his side.

            The pain had gotten to be too much.

            He was on his knees in seconds, not even able to make a sound. El and Joyce hadn’t noticed yet, and Steve’s brain was too fuzzy to hear much else. He felt his body hit the ground at the same time the weight of his wound finally crashed down on him.

            Steve couldn’t help but wonder if this was what his dad wanted. For him to die silently and alone. No complaints. No excuses. Would his father be proud of him? He’d finally done it. He’d finally Manned Up till death had taken him away. That had to be the point. To die alone as a strong independent person.

            He heard voices, but the world had already gone black.

            At least they won.

\------------------------------

            The steady beeping was really annoying, and it was giving Steve a headache. Almost as bad as a hangover. Not to mention the ache in his side, which was frustrating too. But he could not open his eyes or form words. Everything just hurt too much. His body felt too heavy.

            “Hey buddy,” the warm sound of Dustin’s voice washed over him. “I see you’re still asleep. That’s okay. Take your time.”

            Asleep? He wasn’t asleep. He was awake. His body just wasn’t functioning right.

            “You’ve been asleep for a while,” Dustin hummed. “You know. El says you’ve been asleep for 46 days.”

            46 days? That was a long time to be asleep. He could feel Dustin’s hand go to his hair, running through it gently. It felt nice.

            “Your hairs kind of limp,” Dustin stated. “They won’t let us come in and fix it. I’m not allowed to bring in your hairspray. Sorry. Something about the fumes being bad for you.”

            Limp hair was the least of Steve’s worries. He had to let Dustin know he was awake. He focused on his body. Willed it to do something. He could be wrong, but he might have gotten a finger to move.

            “What haven’t I told you about?” Dustin hummed out. “Oh! Will drew a picture for you. It’s you with your nail bat and sunglasses. It says Babysitter Steve at the top. And I think Mike is finally starting to cave at the idea of letting you join a campaign. I was thinking you could be our fighter. We don’t really have one of those yet. I mean, magic is cool, but it isn’t always reliable.”

            It was nice to be considered for the game, but Steve couldn’t really see himself playing it. Oh, well. First time for everything. Now if only he could open his eyes. He tried again, greeted by a bright light as they cracked. He closed them and tried again, a little more success this time.

            Dustin wasn’t looking at him. Was instead staring outside at the sun filled sky. It was blue. A nice bright blue that it hadn’t been when they closed the gate.

            “But you know Mike,” Dustin chuckled softly. “Always stubborn. Just, do me a favor. Wake up so we ca-”

            Dustin turned to stare at Steve, gaping as their eyes met. Brown eyes meeting brown eyes. Steve hoped he was smiling, but it was probably a grimace. Dustin stared for a few more moments before he was racing into the hall.    

            “Dus-tin,” Steve groaned out as he reached out for the boy. “Dus-tin.”

            Dustin was back, gripping his hand tightly. “It’s okay,” Dustin cooed none to gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. The doctor is coming.”

            They kicked Dustin out of the room, much to Steve’s protest, just to look him over. It was a good two hours before the doctors were content to let him have visitors again. Much to Steve’s annoyance. But Dustin was soon back, as were four other of his six kids. El still couldn’t really be out in public. But he smiled at them, let them talk. Nancy and Jonathan were there, as were Joyce and Hopper. And Hopper looked guilty.

            “Hop-per?” Steve asked, voice still gritty.

            “Hey, kid,” Hopper stepped forward and cupped his head. “I’m so, so sorry. So sorry.”

            “Why?” Steve’s gatty voice asked.

            “I thought you were fixing yourself up,” Hopper sighed, looking pained. “But you were checking your wound. The doctors said you had the wound for at least five hours before you came to the hospital.”

            That long? Huh. Steve was surprised he was still alive. He had to have lost a lot of blood.

            “No’ faul’,” Steve stated softly.

            “Kid-”

            “No’ faul’,” Steve stated again.

            Hopper just nodded. But Steve knew the cop didn’t believe him. He was starting to understand El’s frustration with being unable to say much. Steve watched the group of people as they eyed him. He wasn’t sure what could be wrong, but they were al eyeing him desperately.

            “Wha’?” he questioned.

            “It’s okay, Steve,” Joyce hummed to him gently. “I swear it is. Are you in any pain?”

            Steve shook his head, wincing at the action. But his breathing hitched, and Steve mentally cursed himself. He gave a sign of weakness. But Joyce didn’t scold him. And neither did Hopper. They just watched him sadly as Joyce ran a hand through his hair.

            “Get some sleep, sweetie,” Joyce cooed gently. “We’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

            Steve didn’t really want to sleep, but the gentle feeling of Joyce combing her fingers through his hair was nice. So he gently drifted off to soft touches. A feeling he had never had before.

\-----------------------------

            He went home two days later. His wound was nearly healed, and he was deemed stable enough. Without a doubt in his mind, Steve knew his father had a hand in his early release. So he wasn’t at all surprised when he came home and was immediately greeted with his father’s fist.

            For three days, Steve knew nothing but pain. His father beat him for going to the hospital. For costing them pointless money. For being a disgrace. Steve got an answer to his previous question. He still hadn’t Manned Up enough. But Steve endured the pain and punishment, especially when he would let out a whimper or a cry. It was his own fault. He’d disappointed his parents. This was why his mother never came home anymore. Because Steve was a disgrace.

            His side had ripped open again, several times over, and he was bleeding out on the floor of his father’s office. His father had decided to take a break. He wasn’t sure how long he had been there, on the floor of the office, but he didn’t dare flinch when hands cupped his face.

            “Steve?”

            That couldn’t be right. There was no way El was in his house, especially with his father home. He could barely open his eyes with how swollen his face was, but she was here. And she looked terrified.

            “Steve?”

            “Hey, El,” he tried to smile through the pain.

            She didn’t let go of his face, just maneuvered herself so that Steve’s head fell into her lap. Then her hand was gently running through his blood soaked hair. He chose to stare at her face, doing his best to hold back a wince whenever her hand went over a bruise of cut.

            “Ah, kid.”

            Hopper was there too. That was cool. And there was a second police officer at Hopper’s side. Hopper and the other officer looked as if they were the ones in pain. Which was odd, because they were older than Steve, and men weren’t supposed to show emotion. But Steve closed his eyes again and leaned into El’s lap.

            He woke up in the hospital bed with El by his side. Which was odd, but he didn’t complain.

            Hopper and Joyce came in to talk to Steve alone. Hopper had raced to the bathroom to throw up, and Joyce was pale and horrified, as Steve explained his father’s teachings. He stayed in the hospital for three weeks after that. And Hopper probed Steve to answer the doctors. Even El was by his side most of the time.

            “Everyone needs to feel,” El told Steve one day as she ghosted a hand over one of his bruises. “Emotions are necessary. My sister taught me that. Even without powers, you need to feel.”

            “Why?” Steve asked.

            “Because emotions are freeing,” El smiled. “We feel because it gives us purpose. I read a book recently. It said that someone who can’t feel emotions is weak. Emotions are strong. They make us strong.”

            Steve wasn’t sure what it was about that statement, but he cried for the first time since he was three.


End file.
